Late Night Visitor
by Writer Monkey
Summary: Michael comes to visit Holly in Nashua. Michael/Holly. M in second chapter.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Late Night Visitor

Rating: PG/PG-13ish

Characters: The Office, Michael/Holly

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Purely for entertainment purposes

Author's note: Has potential to turn into smut if readers so desire...

Turning over in bed for the 17th time that night, I look at the clock. The red numbers that light up my room blaze 3:00 AM. I stare at them for a while and when I finally close my eyes again, the time is burned on the back of my eyelids. Fixing the pillows, I itch my nose and brush the hair out of my face. I'm startled by a tapping noise at the window. Eyeing the dead branch a few inches from the glass, I turn back over and I repeat "call tree man tomorrow" in my head. With the 3:00 disappearing behind my eyelids as I fall asleep.

A few hours later I awake with a start. *THUD* The moon shines up through my window as an ear piercing scream fills the room. "OWWWW!" cries the man holding his shin.

"Michael? Is that you?" My voice cracks as I pull the covers to my chest protectively.

"Yeah, yeah." He says in defeat as he sits in the middle of the room rubbing his leg while making a hissing noise.

"What on earth are you doing here?"

"Your door was locked." He says looking up at me. "I had to see you."

"Michael," I say, "you promised me you wouldn't do this…" as I lower the covers back down to the bed. I get up and walk over to him, lifting his pant leg as I sit down Indian style on the rug.

"I know what I said, Holly." He looks down at me.

"Then why are you here?"

"It's so hard, Holly. I just can't get you out of my head. The littlest things remind me of you." He says, his voice gradually getting faster. "Today I ordered a hamburger for lunch from the joint down the street. I found myself saying "No sesame seeds on the bun, please" then I remembered you weren't here to split it with me."

"Oh, Michael" I say with a breathless sigh. "It's been hard to me too…"

I think I can see tears brimming in his eyes, but I convince myself that it's just my sleepy eyes playing tricks on me.

"And you know, I always envisioned us doing that Lady and the Tramp thing? You know, the thing with the spaghetti?"

I smile faintly and look down at the gash on his leg.

"Hold on, I'll go get a band-aid and antiseptic." I say as I stand up and walk quietly into the bathroom adjoining my bedroom.

The lights flicker on around the mirror and blind me. Squinting, I open the vanity in search of the needed materials. "Band-aids, band-aids, band-aids." I find myself whispering while looking for the box. Grabbing the box, the bottle of antiseptic, and a few Kleenexes, I shut the light off and walk back into the room. I begin to unscrew the top of the antiseptic as my eyes adjust to the darkness of the room which doesn't change quick enough. I end up tripping on the rug next to my bed and the things in my hands go flying as I hit the ground, the antiseptic spilling across the floor.

"Holly! Holly? Are you ok?" Michael says as he scoots over to me on the floor, gathering the stuff on the way.

"Perfect!" I exclaim as the back of my head collides with the wall. "Just perfect." All of a sudden the tears well up in my eyes.

A moment passes in silence as Michael hears me sniffling.

"Holly, if something's wrong please tell me!"

"Oh, don't you GET it, Michael? Everything is wrong."

"It's ok. That bottle of antiseptic couldn't have been more than a few dollars…I'll go buy you another bottle if that's what you want…"

"No", I laugh "it's not that. It's us. It's me. I sit at my desk all day thinking of us. How much fun we had miniature golfing…how much fun we had at the food court-" I pause and smile slightly, "and later that night…" I say quietly.

"That chicken noodle soup _was_ fantastic" he says, nudging my side.

"I just didn't think it'd be this _hard_."  
"You know I've been just as miserable as you." He says and puts his hand on my thigh.

I look down at his hand, close my eyes and shake my head.

"I just-I just don't know what to do, Michael. I'm so torn."

"Maybe we can give it one more shot, even with the distance." Michael says and I turn and face him, tears evident on my face.

"Oh, Holly," he says as he notices the wet tracks on my cheeks "don't cry." He moves his hand from my thigh to my face as he wipes them away. Tracing his thumb across the apple of my cheek and down my jaw line to my chin he pushes a strand of hair behind my ear. I take a deep breath and as I exhale, the strap of my camisole falls off my shoulder. With my face looking down, I shift my eyes up to meet his. That new but familiar desire clouds his eyes.

"Are you trying to seduce me Mrs. Robinson?" He says in his best Dustin Hoffman impression.

"Well, no…but I-"

Before I could get my words out, his lips crash hastily against mine. Our teeth click and I close my eyes. His hands tangle in my hair as I keep mine in my lap. The taste of peppermint faintly on his lips makes me wonder if he knew this was going to happen tonight, if he knew I was going to cave. He leans away from me out of breath and I can feel the warmth of his breath on my face.

"You know…you _do_ still technically owe me that Yoga lesson…" he whispers in my ear and smiles.


	2. Chapter 2

I sit with my back against the wall and take a deep breath. The smell of his cologne fills my nose. I grip his shirt in my right hand as I watch him trace his fingers lightly across my chest at the edge of my camisole.

"Michael," I say breathlessly, "do you really think we should be doing this?"

"You _know _what I think…" he says getting his finger caught in the strap which ends up slapping back against my skin.

"Whoops!" he exclaims loudly as I giggle and squeeze his ear. "Sorry!"

I pull his ear down towards the floor so he's lying on his back. "Maybe I should teach you a lesson."

I straddle his waist and his chest hitches as his voice catches in his throat. I bite my bottom lip as I see Michael eye the skin of my stomach not covered by cloth. I lean forward; my hot, heavy breath in his ear as I lick it. I feel his leg twitch as I blow softly over the wet skin. Pulling back just enough to place my face in front of his, I kiss him softly, our lips barely touching. Tracing my fingers across his lips, I wrap my arms around his neck and hug him tightly.

"This should never have ended." The words come out of my mouth before I can stop them. It's soft and weak and I immediately regret saying it. His strong arms envelop my lithe body. He pulls me as close as possible and kisses my forehead.

He pushes me back slightly and looks deep into my eyes. Without a word, I slide slowly to the floor by his feet. I can feel him watching my every move. I begin to untie his shoes and loosen the laces, slipping them off very slowly. Rolling his socks off his feet, I work my way back up to his face, undoing a few buttons here and there.

He cradles me in one arm and flips me swiftly onto my back. The hard wood floor is cold on my skin and I shiver slightly, realizing I'm only in a camisole and boxers. Noticing my body shake, Michael lifts me up transitorily and walks over to the bed. Placing me gently in the middle of the bed, I push the covers down with my feet. I watch his muscles tense as he takes his shirt off. As he stands up, I crawl to the edge of the bed. My fingers work nimbly to unhitch his belt and unzip his pants. They fall to the ground.

He plops on the bed and I pull the covers up over us like a tent, protecting us from the world and the ever-present question of what happens in the morning. The down-comforter shield allows us to take this moment for ourselves and to do what feels right. And boy, does this feel right.

Lying on my back, Michael begins to leave butterfly kisses on my neck and chest. He slowly pushes the straps off my shoulders. I can feel him tracing the red mark from the slap of the strap earlier. Looking up at me, he has an apologetic look in his eyes. I run my fingers through his hair, messing it up. Simply mouthing, "It's okay" he kisses me hard.

He runs his hands under my back, tracing my spine as he works my camisole up higher and higher. I move my hands above my head and encourage him to remove the offending clothing. As he does, my hair falls in my face and covers my eyes, little pieces sticking up everywhere. Quickly brushing them out of the way, I pull Michael down on top of me, craving the feeling of skin on skin, heat radiating from one body to another. He tangles his hands in my hair and kisses me again. I bring my hands to his face and deepen the kiss. My hands brush against the new 5 o'clock shadow that's beginning to form. The scratching against my cheeks burns with a sense of eroticism I hadn't before experienced.

I remember the last time this happened. The word submissive springs to mind. Michael had been so timid. Jan had really whipped him into her ideal mold of a man. He was afraid to explore, and I remember that I certainly advocated it. He seems to have reverted back, and once again, I urge him to explore.

As we kiss feverishly, his hands are massaging my breasts. He moves his mouth to cover one as I arch my back at the feeling. Flicking my nipple with the tip of his tongue, I let out a throaty moan. Taking this as initiative, he moves back up to my mouth to silence me. Tongues slide in and out. A sea of kisses so feverish our bodies begin to melt. Somewhat distracted, I can faintly feel his hand tickling down my stomach. Pushing my legs slightly apart, I feel his body stiffen as he touches me. My breath catches in my throat as my blood travels south. Relaxing, his fingers work me as dexterously as a sculptor sculpts his clay. Rubbing here, circular motions there, I wonder how on _earth_ he learned to please a woman so well. With his free hand he cradles my head while giving me sloppy, wet kisses. It didn't take long for me to know when to stop as I felt the heat begin to rise.

"Michael," His name comes out rushed between kisses. "Michael." I grab his hand and look at him. "I want you inside me. I need you inside me." Without thinking, he laughs through his nose and begins to say "That's what she-" then stops abruptly and looks at me. Smiling even bigger, he says "That's what she's _saying_!"

Quickly removing his underwear, he lays back on top of me. Dizzy with desire, I can feel his growing erection between our bodies. Reaching my hand down, I slightly stroke it, trailing my fingernail up the underside. Closing his eyes, he drops his head to my chest letting go of a breath I didn't know he was holding. Grasping him, I position it so he's at my entrance. Looking back up, we make eye contact as he takes one long stroke into me. Unable to keep eye contact, my eyes roll back in my head as I bite on my lip to prevent myself from screaming. I end up whimpering instead. We're both grabbing at the bed sheets as he slowly begins to move. He pulls out and then sinks back in again and again, until a faster pace is set. Each thrust harder and faster than the previous.

I can't help but think how perfect this is, how perfect it feels. When I left the branch in Scranton, I thought it was over. Until 5 am _today_ I thought it was over. Thank God I had been proven wrong.

As the familiar heating sensation begins to build, Michael grabs my leg and throws it over his shoulder, making just the right angle and sending me over the edge. As Michael comes with a loud grunt, the alarm clock radio blasts "Life Is a Highway" through the silent room. It reads 7:00 AM.

"Michael, Michael," I say out of breath, "Hit the snooze button".

"I can't...seem…to find it…" He says as the things on my nightstand crash to the floor.

"At least turn the volume down" I shout above the music.

"Oh, for crying out loud!" He yells as he throws the clock at the wall.

"I'll buy you a new one tomorrow." He says, facing me.

I prop myself up on my elbow and ask, "One of those crazy voice ones, maybe?"


End file.
